- "The best way to spend your money is to spend it on time, not on stuff." http://su.pr/2tr5iP #
- First bonus by stock options today. Not sure I'm impressed. #
- RT @chrisguillebeau: US border control just walked the train asking "Are you a US citizen?" Native American guy says: "One of the originals" #
- @FARNOOSH My credit score is A measure of my integrity not THE measure. in reply to FARNOOSH #
- I'm listening to a grunge/metal cover of "You are my sunshine" #
- There's something funny about a guy on reality TV whining about how private he is. #LAInk #
Disclosure
I’m not terribly commercial, but I do enjoy making money.
As such, it is safe to assume that any company, entity, corporation, person, place, thing, or other that has a product, service, post, or link has in some way compensated me for said product, service, post or link. That compensation–direct or indirect–may be in the form of money, swag, free trips, gold bullion, smurf collectibles, super-models, or just warm-fuzzies. That list is NOT in order of preferred method of compensation.
To reiterate: If it’s commercial, and it’s here, I’m probably being paid for it.
A Well-Trained Husband
- Image by Getty Images via @daylife
I am so well-trained.
I was more than a bit wild when I was younger. For the most part, that ended when my son was born. When you procreate, it’s time to put the wild on a shelf and become a reliable provider. That’s just the way it is. Anybody who prioritizes the wild over the progeny needs to be forcibly sterilized and exiled before be sold for parts.
When my mother-in-law got a membership to Sam’s Club, she gave my wife the second card, so we effectively have a membership. For those who don’t know, Sam’s Club is a warehouse store that has some incredibly good deals and a lot of things that look like good deals because you are buying in bulk.
The thing I hate most about warehouse stores is the default accusation of theft when you leave. They require you to line up so the the person by the door can look at your receipt and pretend to count what’s in your cart while they are really scanning for the most-stolen items in the store and ignoring the rest. The only thing they really accomplish is making all of their customer feel like thieves.
I used to bypass the line and the checker and just leave. My wife got sick of the indignant screeches coming from the store as we left. Eventually she got me to stop.
Last night, I went back to pick up supplies for a fund-raiser I’m helping to organize on Sunday. I went with one of the other organizers, who had some personal shopping to do later. We checked out using his account and he paid, while I took the food home to keep until Sunday. Since he’ll be getting reimbursed for the food, he kept the receipt while I headed for the door. Anybody see the problem here?
When the receipt-checker challenged me, I docilely stepped to the side and called my friend to bring the receipt to the door. I hate the feeling of submitting to authority, especially when the authority is pretending to be customer service. I just calmly did what the door-cop told me, just like my wife wanted, even though she wasn’t there.
I hate warehouse stores.
I Accidentally Bought a Bus
Last weekend, I was having dinner with my friend and business partner. After our carry permit class, we try to get dinner, unwind from the class, debrief, and figure out how to improve our business.
Over the course of this discussion, the idea of owning a bus came up. It was part of an impractical-but-useful solution to one of our larger expenses. My partner mentioned that he had a friend who owned a bus, so I asked him to find out how much he was asking.
A few days later, he called me and said simply, “We bought a bus.”
Oops.
What year?
“I don’t know.”
How big?
“Huge!”
Does it run?
“It used to. It probably still does, but they lost the key.”
Crap.
So we own a bus. It’s a 1987 Ford B700. It’s 20,000 pounds empty, has a 429 motor that doesn’t leak oil, and an air horn.
Under the hood, it’s got a couple of issues. There are some melted vacuum tubes leading to a vapor box. The vapor box is used to cheat obsolete emissions standards and doesn’t do anything productive. There’s also some belts missing. The belts drive an air pump that pushes clean air into the exhaust system, again, just to cheat emissions standards that we don’t have anymore. Nothing necessary–or even useful–is broken.
Part of the $1000 we paid for the bus went to a locksmith who came and made us a key.
The interior of the beast is 3/4 converted to an RV. There are 4 folding bunks in the back, minus mattresses. There are two RV sofas that fold down to beds, plus seating for another 12 people. No kitchen or bathroom facilities.
We’ve done some research and come up with a few choices for this impulse purchase:
- Flip it. We should be able to at least double our money quickly.
- Finish the RV conversion already in progress. This wouldn’t turn it into a fancy motorhome, but it would make a great deer shack on wheels. I figure we could make this happen for about $500 and turn it into a $3500 toy to sell. Or take deer hunting.
- Turn it into a full RV. This would be more expensive. My estimate is a $5-6000 investment to make it a $10-12000 RV. It would take most of the summer to do, which means we wouldn’t be selling it until spring. I quit wanting to do this when I saw the bus in the light. There’s not a lot of rust, but it’s more than I’d want to fix to make the outside look as good as the inside, in my head.
- Party bus. What’s a better way to spend a Saturday evening that shepherding a drunken bachelorette around with her friends? It’d take about $2000 to outfit the bus, plus insurance, plus licensing, plus the fact that drunken bachelorettes are obnoxious.
- Auction. We got an estimate for a $3000 sale, minus a 20% commission.
- Stunt-jumping. I saw a video of a guy jumping a bus over 20 motorcycles. I could do that. I’m sure one of the race tracks around here would pay good money to have us do that one weekend. Afterward, we’ll melt the bus for scrap.
- Sell the engine and scrap the body. That should bring us at least $1500.
We jumped into this with no real plan, but there are a few ways we could make our money back. I’m expecting a healthy profit on a pretty short timeline.
What would you do if you owned a bus?
Phone Insurance
Thursday, at parent/teacher conferences, I sat on my phone and broke the screen.
Not just the glass, but the LCD.
Not a problem. I pay for Sprint’s repair plan.
Little did I know that Sprint–in their infinite #$!$%#$%–considers a phone unrepairable if there is more than one crack on the screen. That effectively means that any broken screen is a total loss.
It’s good to know my $4/month has been wasted.
Other than a phone I had stolen last year, I still own every phone I’ve ever owned. None have had water damage or anything catastrophic happen to them, so I didn’t get the replacement side of Sprint’s insurance plan.
To summarize:
- I broke my phone in a way that Sprint won’t fix, even though I pay for the fixit plan.
- My phone costs $600 when you aren’t signing a new contract.
- My phone has the most expensive LCD to replace at the moment.
The Total Equipment Protection program costs $11 per month. Given my history, that’s a waste of $11, though it would actually be a waste of $7, since I have been happy to pay $4 for the repair plan.
$7 per month since I got my first smartphone in about 2008, means I’ve saved $420 in insurance fees I haven’t used.
Today, I paid $298 to replace the LCD on my phone. That includes overnighting the part to the shop since it’s not stocked and I’m leaving town tomorrow.
An insurance claim from Sprint comes with a $150 deductible.
All told, I’m $270 to the good.
Would I get the insurance if I were signing papers today?
Probably not. A $7 monthly bill doesn’t hurt, while a $300 surprise does, but that’s why I have a repair fund.
Do you have insurance on your phone? Have you used it?
The Story of Sammy: Complete
This is the complete collection of the Story of Sammy. Sammy is a guy I met after my mother-in-law died in the spring of 2012. My wife and I decided to help him launch a….
Read the stories. It’s better that way.
Part 1, in which we meet Sammy, learn of his dreams and offer to help.
Part 2, in which Sammy jumps into business with both feet, teaching teenagers the value of work.
Part 3, in which Sammy shows us what crackheads and the homeless can accomplish if given the chance.
Part 3.5, in which…holy drama, Sammy!
Part 4, in which I am disappointed.
